The Three Dovahkiin
by DaXlyn
Summary: What if, Instead of just one Dragonborn, there were three? What if, they each met at Helgen? What if, they formed a bond with each other? What if i stopped being cheesy and came up with a good Summary? The apocalypse. Anyways, enjoy my newest story Rated M for violence, blood, and the eventual Lemon.
1. Epilouge

Epilogue

The rain pours outside as the patrons in the Bannered Mare drank their mead, the rain drumming against the roof. Saadia places a fresh mutton leg on one Nord's plate, and some goat leg on a rather dashing, broad shouldered Breton draped in a fine robe that simply glowed with power. The Breton turns to Saadia and thanks her with a smile. His black hair cropped close to his head and his face clean-shaven, his smile white as pearls. Saadia smiles and bows. "Anything else, sir?" The Breton shakes his head and gives her a sac of coins. "Here is your tip and the cost for the food. There is about 50 gold Septims in there. Oh and please call me Miguel" Saadia opens her mouth, and raises an eyebrow. "But that's more than twice the amount the food cost." Miguel leans back and smirks. "Keep the change." Saadia thanks him and bows, walking away. Miguel takes a bite of his food, contemplating his gold.

_At least I can always find a well paying job here and there. With all the magic at my disposal, I might as well BE the arch mage. _

Miguel smiles and keeps eating. _I think it was the smart thing to do, leaving the college. Sure, I might miss a few lessons, but at least I'm making a decent profit off of my skills. I wonder when my next job will be?_

The door to the Bannered Mare flies open, banging against the wall and making most everyone in the Inn jump and turn to see the new comer. A slender figure, clad in black with a menacing black blade at his belt walks in, looking around. His face stays hidden under a cowl, with only his piercing blue eyes glaring out from under the hood. The figure's head passes the Breton, making a quick sweep over the room, and swivels back to him, and their eyes lock.

_Strange...what an odd wardrobe…the citizens in Riften told me of a figure that would be dressed In black, and few lived to see one…books were written about it…what was it?_

The answer comes to the large Breton as the figure points at him.

_Nightingale._

His eyes widen and he readies an ice spear in his right hand behind his back, as the figure strides to him, growling, a fire blazing in the Nightingale's eyes. "Mage!"

Miguel is about to release his spell into the figure's chest when the Nightingale stops in front of him, its voice grave. "I need your assistance." Miguel looks around and the nords are watching carefully and Saadia watches from the doorway to the kitchen.

"Go back to your drinks everyone. I'll handle this." The nords nod and turn away, but keeping an ear out. A bar fight is always a good way to start an eventful evening, and a good night of drinking. Miguel turns to the slender Red Guard woman and nods, and she reluctantly goes back into the kitchen, saving a steak from burning to a crisp. Miguel turns to the figure, who is studying him intently, and the glare the nightingale gives the giant Breton makes him feel small and insignificant.

"…How good are you, Mage?" The nightingale growls, sizing him up.

"At what?" Miguel asks, slightly intimidated.

"Healing. I have a brother bleeding to death in the apothecary down the street. The alchemist cant do much about it and I need a mage. I'll ask ONE more time. ARE YOU GOOD AT HEALING?" The Nightingale growls up into his face.

Balls of light shine in Miguel's hands and he holds them up. "Yeah. I can heal him. But there will be a fee for my help." The Nightingale looks up at him and growls. "If you save my brother, you can name your price. If not, you'll regret getting up this morning and putting on those shiny robes of yours."

The Breton weighs his options and nods. "Bring me to your brother."

The Nightingale nods and grabs Miguel's forearm with a steely grip that seemed to be impossible coming from such a scrawny figure, and drags him out of the Bannered Mare, kicking the door open and dashing across the street to the Cauldron, his long ebony cape flying in the wind behind him as he kicks open the door and throws the Breton in the room, locking it behind him. Miguel looks around and hears moaning from the back room, and the Nightingale pushes him in its direction. Miguel runs in and sees a sight most gruesome than the face of a troll. A bleeding argonian in black and crimson is laying on a bed roll, his insides hanging out and gushing out blood. It's scales as red as its blood, and its horns black as night. His eyes closed in agony, and his shirt ripped open.

The Nightingale growls in his ear. "Either you save him, or you die. Now get to work." The Nightingale says, standing by the doorway from the apothecary into the room.

Miguel looks around the room and sees an exit on the far side of the room, with a man sitting in a chair next to the door. He immediately ignores this man, putting it in the back of his mind and grabs a pair of leather gloves from his bag and starts pushing the Argonian's intestines back into him, healing and cleansing the organs. "Feed him some strong liquor. He's gonna need it. Healing hurts like a bitch."

The Nightingale grabs the bag next to the argonian and fishes out two bottles, and smirks. "Argonian Wine and Spiced Wine. Both imported with his share of gold. The bastard always loved spicy things…" He smiles and sets the spiced wine on the side and pops the cork out of the argonian wine and wretches the victim's mouth open and pours it down his maw, past his razor sharp teeth. The poor wretch coughs and the Nightingale strokes its maw. "Drink it brother. Swallow. It'll null the pain."

The argonian relaxes and swallows large gulps of the Wine, and the Nightingale pops open the Spiced Wine and feeds it to the Argonian, who gulps it down as well. The argonians scales start growing pale, and Miguel hurries to shove the rest of the intestines back into place and pulls the scales back together and starts melding them together with a white hot flam and healing magic, while the argonian screams in pain.

Half an hour later, the Argonian is pale as his teeth, but the bleeding has stopped and Miguel has saved his life, and falls back in a chair, drained of power and exhausted. The Nightingale brings him a bottle of Black-Briar mead and crouches next to him…

"On behalf of myself, and my brothers, I would like to thank you for your services, Mage."

Miguel breathes and looks into the piercing blue eyes of the Nightingale. "You can thank me with gold, and with your identities."

The eyes behind the mask glare. "You can only have one of those."

Miguel's curiosity and need for compensation struggled in his head for a minute, before he looked up into the eyes of the Nightingale. "I want to know…Who are you guys? Why do you call this creature your brother when you don't even have a tail or horns? Why am I talking to a Nightingale, when they are supposed to be the stealthiest thieves and warriors? What is your name?"

The Nightingale looks into the fire in the room and thinks… "That is a lot of good questions…" He says, pulling off the hood and the mask to reveal a blonde haired wood elf with a scar going down his left cheek starting from his eye. He brushes his wild tasseled hair to the side and sits next to the Argonian.

"My story is long and drawn out, but I'll try to answer the majority of your questions. Since we are no longer paying you. This man, this "Creature" as you say, is my adopted brother, Axe-Tail. I just call him AXenth. He's the closest family I have really, ever since we left Black Marsh. We grew up together and stuck it out to most people. We were thick as thieves, and that sorta explains how we are what we are…" The Nightingale says, scratching his head. "That man over there is my best friend, but has, over time, become my brother as well. He's saved us more times than we can remember, and coincidentally we met at the same place…Helgen."

He looks into Miguel's sea green eyes and smirks. "Who am I? I'm DaXlyn, of course."

Hello, friends, its me, DaX. Yeah Yeah yeah, I know I'm behind schedule on PSG, chapter 5. I'm working on it. Between school starting and hanging out with friends, I kinda need to spread my time and manage it a little. So yeah, I've got 5 pages of chapter 5 written up in size 11 font. Which page number on fanfic don't matter for shit, of course, but its an accurate judgement of how much I've written, and I have NOT worked on the Pokémon one, even though its good, I only plan to have it last a few more chapters because there is supposed to be a lemon or two…or three. ANYWAYS, here is a preview of the SKYRIM fanfiction I'm doing. Kinda obvious who my characters are.

ME=Wood elf (Thief/archer/assassin) I can use A LOT of magic, but healing takes forever on someone else. Which is why we needed an mage to properly patch AXenth up.

My brother Ethan/Axenth= Argonian (assassin/heavy)

Michael Holland/Miguel=who isn't Dragon born, but may or may not be taught the Thu'um later on, but is our mage.

And of course (I cant leave him out of a good story)

My best friend, Rj/Riccardo/Jacket (from my PSG) who will be actually a name he came up with, Artharis…kinda lame, I know, but bear with me.

We'll each have our favorite faction as our wardrobe, like how I'm a stealthy thief so I freakin love the Nightingales. Ethan is…well…an assassin so he HAS to be Dark Brotherhood.

I'll have to ask Rj what faction he wants to be and what race and that crap. He'll most definitely be reading this tonight and be like "YEAH HE'S FUCKING DOING SKYRIM, BITCHES!"

Of course, this is just the Epilogue, so chapter one will probably not even have Miguel in it till, like…a lot of chapters later, cause we need to go through Helgen, and go through each of our Missions for our factions, maybe go in depth with our characters origins, and all that cool stuff. So..yeah, this series will actually be longer than my Pokémon one (which will be updated rarely) and probably a lot longer than my PSG one, cause I like to play skyrim and every time I do I get inspired for a new chapter. I GUESS the same could be said about PSG, but come on. I'm not going to have time to watch a lot of episodes. IF THEY START ON SEASON 2, it would be nice, but that's probably not going to happen =.= …

Ugh, anyways. Tell me how you like this chapter, cause I'll be posting more, but Miguel wont be back till a lot later. Till next time. L8r.


	2. Chapter 1, A Chance Meeting

*Author's note: if you read this its 12-21-12. Go play the song; it's the End of the World, as we know it. And sing along. I want to hear some god damn singing. XD I decided to write and post this chapter in case the world doesn't end tomorrow or today. I think I should make a list of my loved ones and number one would have to be my future fiancée Christy, who inspires me in everything I do. Second would be all of the great friends I have, most of which is RJ who with out his jokes and constant badgering to write more stories I would never have started. The last would be my brother, Axenth/Ethan, and my mom and sister and dad, who obviously are my family.

Chapter 1: A Chance Meeting

Two characters of medium height enter the packed bar, whose sign reads the Dragon's Mug and sit next to each other. Both dressed in sleek black cloaks with hoods, the cloaks hiding their frames, but not their medium height. A waitress strides up to their table and smiles jauntily, "Greetings Travelers, what will you would you like, some hearty mead or some rich steak?"

The one on the left leans into the other's ear and whispers, his cloak's hood slightly longer and swooping over the front.

After a few seconds, they straighten up, and the right one reaches up and pulls off his hood, revealing a slender face, with extremely fair white skin, the longest dirty blonde hair whose bangs nearly fall into his breathtakingly icy black-blue eyes. To look into these eyes one nearly sees their own soul reflected back at them, and the wild smirk that follows barely gives hint as to whether or not you passed judgment. His eyes teem with life and magic, and would certainly be one of much talk, if not for his long pointed pale ears, signifying his elven heritage, which, in this realm of Tamriel, is looked down upon by some of the Nords.

"My friend would like the bloodiest steak and some fine ale, if you would be kind, ma'am. And as for me, I would just love some honey-ed mead that I have heard is so delectable in Skyrim, and two salmon steaks. We're quite famished from our journey." The elf smiles charmingly, and the Nordic waitress falters and nods, ringing up a price in her head.

"This should cover it." The elf says reaching into his robe out of sight, pulling out a coin purse and putting it in the waitress's hand. "About 30 gold? You may keep the change. May your food be filling and your drink hearty." He says dismissing the girl.

Once she leaves a hissing voice fills his ear and the elf turns to his friend.

"Brotherrrr, we sssshouldnt be wasssssting ourrr time, we can hunt ourrr own foood."

The elf narrows his eyes and points at his friends face under the hood, his voice switching to a dull murmur. "You can't run anymore. You need food and your strength. And don't tell me we can hunt, because I know that you only hiss your words when your nearly about to pass out from exhaustion. We'll eat here a bit and take a break from the running. When we are done here, we'll make our way East to High Rock, where most of the elves are. We barely just made it into Skyrim from Morrowwind, and I know you miss our home's marsh."

"But brotherrrr, I can make it. There issss no ssssenssssee stopping here where we may be caught."

The elf frowns in concern. "It's been three days sense we last made camp. I'm dead tired, and I need to rest. You might not admit your tired, but your not impressing me. We will eat and move on. That's our plan, and that's final."

The hissing voice rises, "But brother, we musssssst leave!" Some Nords turn their heads suspiciously, eyeing the two in the corner.

The elf quickly puts his hand over the figure's mouth. "Hahaha, he's drunk! We'll make it to the wedding, don't worry, Axe!"

Some of the Nords turn away and the elf snaps back to his friend. "Stop talking. We don't want the Nords to find out that one of us is Argonian! Didn't you hear enough of the others's warnings about how bad life is for Argonians? I'm sure our dear mother wouldn't want one of her sons' pelts hanging in some Nord's mead hall!"

"Hey, Stranger!" A deep manly voice says, putting his hand on the elf's shoulder. "Tell us, what is your purpose here?"

The elf turns and eyes him, those deep eyes reading suspicion on the man's face, and puts up a beaming smile, half way closing his eyes. "To drink and rest, like you of course! We are but weary travelers seeking shelter from the cold. We'll be here for a spell, for our legs are sore, and then we will be out of your hair!"

Another Nord, looking the same as the one next to him –twins maybe?- steps up and looks at the elf and his friend. "Surely the warmth of the fire can melt the snow out of your friends ears!"

The Nords around snicker and a few give a laugh.

The elf glares around and puts on the smile. "Oh, but of course! He's just a tad nervous, that's all. New people and all that. Can't say I blame him, though. I'd be frightened if I came in here alone. All this big, ape-like Nords." The hooded brother gives a short hissing snicker at the Nords' expense, while the waitress comes out with the food and sets it in front of the new comers, nervously glancing at the Nordic twins, hurrying to the side and off.

The idiocy in these Nords are made obvious when they both beam with pride and pose in an assumedly heroic position, with their chins high and their hands on their hips, their muscles bulging against their shirts.

The still hooded brother looks at his steak and tugs on the elf's shoulder, pointing at the food.

"Ah, my friends, it appears our food is here, and I shall make a toast to your god in honor of his disciples. Talos, is it? A fine god, who clearly born the lot of you!" The elf raises his bottle, uncorking it and toasts the Nords, and the two burly twins grab theirs and clank their mugs together. "To TALOS!"

They all chug and the elf gives a sip, quickly corking his drink and storing it in his pocket, and his brother does the same, without the toast.

A tongue flicks out of the hood whilst everyone is busy, catching the scent of the steak and the food is lifted to his mouth and he eats ravenously, sharp teeth tearing up cooked flesh and wolfing it down.

A Nord in the center of the room gestures and one of the brothers notice the forked tongue, and frowns. "What did you say your names were?"

The elf stops, already finished with one salmon steak, and turns back to face them, grabbing a roll and munching on it.

"Well, I am the gracious Daxlyn. And this is my dearest brother, Axe-tail…though…you may learn to call him Axenth."

"Axe-tail?" The first brother growls and sets his mug down, already drained.

The Argonian keeps eating, rushing to finish his food, while the fight gets ready behind him.

"Yes, Axe-tail. He's a lovable scaly jerk." The elf smirks and sighs, tossing the last of his food into his mouth, and swallowing.

The Nords narrow their eyes and the second brother steps closer to the two dark-clothed brothers. "I think you have over-enjoyed your stay. We don't like strangers entering our midst."

"Ahhh…I hate ruining family outings." The elf frowns.

The first brother reaches out to grab the still hooded Argonian, to grab his hood, and the elf's hand catches the Nord's wrist. "I wouldn't do that. Axenth gets …testy when people mess with him while he's eating."

The Nord shakes off the hand, and the elf lets go, his strength surprising for his smaller frame. "I don't give a skeever's ass what your friend feels. He has to go."

The elf shakes his head and tsks. "You see, I would agree with you. But the problem is…he's my younger brother, and I don't want a bunch of thick headed Nords messing with him. We might be forced to cast a spell, rather than stay one."

The elf says, his hands crackling with gold and red magics, his threat clear.

"You have two choices; One, you can go back to your food and leave us alone till we leave, or; Two, you can attack us and see which one of you flies across the room with lighting, and which one ignites on fire. The others who attack will find my brother more than capable of taking them on." The elf gives his only warning, his eyes dead serious and nearly black, while his hands raise to show the spells already primed, the grin gone, replaced with a scowl.

The words settle upon the tavern, and all the Nords look to the brothers for their decision. The brothers merely bow and start to turn around. Feigning surrender, they suddenly whirl around and charge with their fists held high.

True to his word, Daxlyn sends the first brother flying across the tavern with lightning, and the other is blasted with a fireball, launching him into the wide-open furnace in the middle of the room, on fire for now two reasons. The second brother jumps out, covered in burns and runs out into the cold, past the elf, where a loud hiss is heard of his footsteps on the snow and him jumping into a snow bank.

Several Nords stand up and draw their swords, fists, and pickaxes, walking towards the strange brothers.

The elf readies a few more of the same spells, and glances at each of them, while the Argonian keeps eating. "Someone should check on them…" He mutters and a few go to check on each, leaving seven Nords still facing Daxlyn. "Axenth, are you finished eating?"

The Argonian responds with a shake of his head, still eating the giant steak, and DaX growls. "Well, please eat faster. I always appreciate a lil extra help."

It's a standoff between the Nords and the single elf, defending his brother. "I don't wish to hurt any of you. I simply wish for us to be left in peace."

"Then you shouldn't have come here!" one of the Nords shout from the back of the pack, and the others holler in agreement.

Daxlyn sneers and snaps at them, "Well, maybe if you weren't a bunch of skeever-headed racist bigots, I wouldn't have to fight you!"

DaX unleashes spells, electrocuting two and freezing two more, before draining all of his magicka and feeling tired.

One of the remaining three charges at the Argonian, yanking off his hood and seeing the blood red Argonian, with his black horns sharp as a dagger. Axe-tail's left eye swivels and looks at the Nord as he swings his fist at Axe, who's hand shoots up and catches the fist, pulls the Nord close and with his other hand takes the bone from the remains of the steak and stabs it into the Nord's eye. As the Nord screams, Axenth slams his fist into the bone, driving it into the brain of the Nord, killing him swiftly. The last two Nords each charge at the brothers. Daxlyn ducks the fist and punches him in the throat, swiftly crushing his larynx. Axenth drops to the floor and kicks the other Nord's legs out from under him, and stabs him in the stomach with the butter knife.

"You were right brother, we should have left. Now there are bodies everywhere." Dax says and rips a shirt from a Nord and wipes the blood off him, and tosses another rag to Axenth who cleans his scales. They both put on their hoods and Daxlyn tosses a bag of gold on the counter and leaves, the bar tender and waitresses looking a little frightened.

The brothers leave and head towards the door and the door is kicked open, revealing the guards.

"Stop, murderers!"

Daxlyn curses and Axenth runs back into the tavern, and points to DaXlyn, "Brother, through here!"

Daxlyn flings a fireball at the guards and runs at the window, as Axenth climbs out the window. DaXlyn grabs his iron daggers from his belt and dives through the window, rolling on the ground outside and getting up, seeing them both surrounded. He readies a fireball in his hand.

"How'd we get surrounded already?!" Axenth hisses, both daggers drawn in his hands, looking around.

The second twin walks out from behind the guards, his hair burnt and smoldering.

"I'm Rolloto, and I'm reporting two Rebel scum that just tried to ransack our tavern!"

Daxlyn and Axenth both log that name into memory, and Daxlyn pulls out a bag of money.

"Wait what rebels? We just got here! Look I can pay the bounty!"

A soldier with his sword drawn takes the bag and hits Daxlyn with the blade over his right eye, causing a deep gash to form. "We don't take bribes from rebel scum."

Axenth cries out and launches himself at the guards as DaX falls to the ground and unconscious. A guard quickly strikes Axenth down and knocks him out with the flat of his blade, throwing him into chains.

Daxlyn's POV

I fade into consciousness, my face feeling like a skeever gnawed it off, and I hear some commotion. I look around and see I'm on a carriage, and Axenth is next to me, using his talons to pick at the cuffs on his arms, using the distraction to unlock the cuffs. _Good job brother…_

I think, smirking and turn to see what the commotion was.

A few Nords were stopping to grab a very tan wood elf and throw him in chains and seat him next to me. He's dressed modestly for an elf, and has ebony hair cropped close to his head so it wouldn't be caught by bramble or snagged by an enemy. He is the same height and weight as me, but the elven stereotype is skinny and medium height, so there is really not a chance that he would be different. His eyes are almond shaped, but with the color of a malachite blade. His fingers on his right hand look rough and calloused like mine, so that probably means he uses bows a lot too. His nose is wide and oblong like a Orc's but he makes it look masculine, not idiotic. It fits his seemingly stretched face that curves to a sharp point at the bottom of his jaw. He has not even the slightest trace of human blood in him. His ears are longer and more pointed than mine. They probably didn't drug him like me because it would probably not work. But they did bash me on the head pretty good…I fade out of consciousness again…

…..Some time later I wake up to see I'm upright and Axenth is seated next to me and a few Nords are in with us, as well as the wood elf…

The blonde haired Nord in front of me makes some conversation my way, and I nod. "Y-yeah…I'm awake."

"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that imperial ambush, same as us. Same as that thief over there."

"Ummm…yeah sure. We were trying to cut cross the borders…and there were a ton of guards… that makes sense." I look to Axenth who barely remembers what happened either, and assumes that it's the truth. _Why else would we have been surrounded so fast? Even the guards down south don't react that quickly to violence. Thievery, on the other hand, that's what we are more familiar with. _

Wait, he doesn't know we are thieves. So who else? I look to the wood elf who glowers and turns away, and to the other Nord, with brown hair and confused eyes.

"Damn you, Stormcloaks, Skyrim was fine till you showed up. The Empire was nice and lazy."

The brown haired one says and I watch.

"If they wouldn't have been looking for you, I would have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now. You there, you and me, we don't belong in this mess. Its these faithless Stormcloaks the Empire wants." He says talking to me, and I start to question his origins. Many humans look vaguely alike.

"We are all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The blond Nord says.

"That's very wise." I say.

"Yeah wisdom. That's what we all need. How about instead of brothers and sisters in binds, we become brothers and sisters in escape?" The wood elf snaps.

"Shut up back there!" The carriage driver shouts.

The blonde Nord shakes his head and points at the carriage behind us. "Bowmen. Half fledged battle-mages. Soldiers. Not good odds, my friend."

The wood elf glares and turns to me. "First chance we get, kinsman, we bolt for it. Kill any in our path, agreed?"

I nod and point at Axenth with my shackled hands. "I'll follow you, but not without my brother, Axe-tail."

He looks from my Argonian brother to me, incredulously. "Brother?"

We both nod. "His family adopted me and my sister, Jynxad (pronounced "Jinx-ed"), in Black Marsh. I've been with their family as long as I can remember. We left to maybe find my parents and a way of life in other places. I never liked the heat of the bogs and look at me, I'm the palest Elf I've ever seen! Surely I have some interesting folks."

The wood elf nods and we carry on with our conversation with the Nords.

The brown haired Nord turns to look at another blonde haired Nord to the wood elf's right, whose mouth is gagged with a grey rag, and is in some kind of royal uniform.

"What's up with him, huh?" the brown haired man says.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking with Ulfric Stormcloak, the True High King." The first blonde tells us.

"And that makes you-?" Axe asks. "I'm Ralof." The first blonde says. "Lokir." The brown haired Nord says.

"Wait, Ulfric?" Lokir says, "The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion…but if they've captured YOU…Oh Gods, where are they taking us?!"

I raise my eyebrow to Axenth, who gives me a look like he's thinking the same thing. _Rebellion? But the Empire punishes rebellion with…death. O.O shit! Now I see why the other elf is in a bad mood! He must have already figured things out!_

Ralof starts up again, "I don't know where we are going, but Sovenguard awaits…"

_Sovenguard? We've had enough visitors in Black Marsh to know that Sovenguard is the heaven of the Nords! We really are going to die!_

"No, this cant be happening. This isn't happening!" Lokir cries out.

"Shut up, I've escaped death more than once! I'll find a way out." The elf snaps at him.

"…Hey, what village are you from, Horse Thief Lokir?" Ralof starts again.

"Why do you care?" "…A Nord's last thoughts…should be of home." "…Rorikstead…I'm from Rorikstead."

In the front of the carriage train we hear a voice call out, "General Tullius sir, the headsmen is ready!"

A gruffer voice replies, "Good. Let's get this over with."

Lokir starts up again, listing names of gods, and begging for their help.

"Look at him! General Tullius, the military Governor! And it looks like the Thalmar are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

Me and the elf glare daggers at Ralof till he sees our stares and coughs. "I'm sorry…I meant no offense to you two."

I shrug "None taken. I have not the damnedest clue what race I am." The wood elf snarls and spits "I take offense. It's because of miserable racist people like the Stormcloaks in Windhelm that I turned to a life of crime, defending my people with daggers on the streets from Nord oppressors, and stealing from the racist wealthy to fill the Grey Quarter's bellies. I hope the Thalmar wins so at least in Windhelm the elves, Khajiit, and Argonians are treated as equals!"

Everyone is silent for a bit until Ralof looks around and sighs. "Ahh… this is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilond is still making that mead with Juniper berries mixed in."

I accept his attempt to break the ice, and I reply, "That sounds sweet. Both the mead and the girl."

"Yeah…thanks friend." Ralof looks at me.

I nod and bow my head. "The pleasure was mine for meeting such a wizened man. I just wish we could have met in a more…civilized manner."

He smiles and nods and squints at the walls. "Funny…when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

Axe smirks and clicks his tongue. "Isssn't that just the texxxtbook definition of irony?"

They both give a short, grim laugh. A boy on the side of the street remarks to his father, "Who are they? Where are they going?"

I turn and look the kid dead in the eyes and wink. The father gently pushes him towards the house. "You need to get inside, little cub." "Why? I want to watch the soldiers." "Inside the house. Now." The father says sternly and the boy moans and heads inside.

"Whoa, why are we stopping?!" Lokir says retardedly. Surely, the fool knows why, with the headsmen, the general, and the rebellion leader. The panic in his eyes says he's figured it out and knows why. So why does he ask such a stupid question? _He's trying to deny reality. _

"Why do you think? …End of the line." Ralof sums up for him. "Let's go. Lets not keep the gods waiting for us."

"No! Wait, we're not rebels!" Lokir says.

"Face your death with some courage, thief." Ralof intones, wisely. "No! you have to tell them we're not rebels! We weren't with you, this is a mistake!"

"Nothing he says will change their minds, Lokir. Now shut up and let me think." The dark elf lashes out, his eyes searching furiously for a way out.

_Maybe there is still hope…_

"Step toward the block when we call your name!" says a Redguard woman.

"Empire loves their damned lists." Ralof says and I nudge him forward to make room for me and my brother as we jump down out of the wagon.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." Says the gentle voice that reads the list. And Ulfric walks to the block.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric." Says Ralof. As Ulfric walks by the dark elf, the elf spits on his shoes, and kicks dirt on him.

"Ralof of Riverwood." The gentle voice reads. And Ralof steps forward, heading to the block.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." The voice reads again.

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" he shouts and runs off, past the guards and down the streets. _An incredibly stupid plan…but maybe it'll work…_

"Halt!" the Redguard woman screams.

"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir screams, running.

"Archers!" the Redguard woman shouts, and an arrow flies straight into Lokir's back and sends him flying and tumbling across the cobblestone road. _…Or not…_

"Anyone else feel like running?!" The Redguard woman shouts at us, angry. The wood elf looks at her and shakes his head.

"Wait…you three, step forward.." The gentle voice says, pointing to me, the wood elf, and my brother. We step up and stand before him and the Redguard bitch, and I look at them calmly, my brother with the same expression.

"Who…are you?"

"I'm Daxlyn Shadow-Strider." By this time, an impressive scar has been made from my eye, making a tear streak down my face from where I was hit with a sword. My eyes bear the same war paint as my brother and Artharis, black mottled paint around our eyes, (the first war paint setting), my blonde hair flowing down to my neck, a gentle nose and a sharply curved chin. With high cheekbones and my frame skinny. My normal human eyes having an elfish and magical darkness to them that people have wondered at all my life. My blonde sloping bushy eyebrows as thick as my hair. The rest of my description having been previously made.

"Not many wood elves would choose to come alone to Skyrim."

I smirk. "I didn't come alone. The Argonian is Axe-tail, or Axenth, Shadow-Strider. My brother."

"And you, dark-haired one?"

"I am Artharis. I was born and raised in Skyrim, under the oppression of the Nords, and it seems that their hatred need not extend only to the Thalmar, but to every race of elf in Skyrim. I will not die for their cause, and if able, I would fight till every Nord that ever spat at a elf or anything inhuman would pay the price." The wood elf responds, his shoulders straight and with pride.

"Captain, what should we do? They are not on the list." _Really? O.O Maybe they'll let us go! Oh sweet Mara! _

"Forget the list! THEY go to the block!" Says what is now the bitchiest Redguard I've ever met. _Damn it! If I get out of here, you'll pay for this injustice!_

"…By YOUR orders, Captain." The gentle list reader says and looks at my brother and I. "I'm sorry, we'll make sure your remains are returned to Black Marsh to your family. And yours to the ."

I nod. "Thank you. You are very kind."

He nods sorrowfully and motions towards the block. "Follow the Captain, prisoners."

The Redguard women walks and we follow, taking up spots next to each other, with Ulfric.

General Tullius, with his graying hair and Imperial armor, steps forward, and gets in Ulfric's face. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

_What's the Voice? _I think to myself. _This guy must be pretty badass to use it. _

Ulfric tries to speak from the gag, but it comes out in mumbles, and General Tullius ignores him, continuing. "You, started this war, and plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"

Everyone hears a sound up in the mountains and I look up, curious, my keen elven ears picking up the sound easily. _…that sounded like the roar of a mountain lion combined with the noise Axenth makes when he's angry…_

Someone pipes up, "What was that?" And everyone looks up at the mountains.

General Tullius shakes his head and waves his armat the noise. "it's nothing , carry on."

"Yes General Tullius!" Oh so not only is the Redguard woman a bitch but she's also a kiss ass. Lovely. I can't wait to kill her.

"Give them their last rite." She says to a priestess of Arkay, dressing in long flowing gold and orange cloth. _That's not the normal clothing of a disciple of Arkay…Maybe…this is a sign from a god…maybe escape will come soon._

She starts to chant about blessings of the eight divines, but I'm not paying attention. If there is a way escape, maybe it'll come soon. _I just need enough time…_

"Oh shut up, and lets get this over with!" A Stormcloak soldier shouts, stepping up to the block and standing in front of the priestess, who looks slightly ticked off.

"As you wish." She says angrily, and I feel sorry for her interruption, but even sorrier for the guy rushing us through. I don't have time to plan and he just chucks gods know how much time of the prayer.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning!" the same rude Stormcloak barks. _All morning for what? To die?! What insanity is this!_

The priestess walks away, and the soldier drops to his knees, placing his head on the block.

"My ancestors are smiling at ME, Imperials. Can YOU say the same?" _Yeah, well your ancestors are also gawking at your stupidity at having rushed this execution. It's not like you have to be in Sovenguard at 12 AM sharp, or their going to cancel your reservation at the Great Table. _

Without a word, the executioner's axe drops, cleanly cutting through the soldier's neck and his head falls gruesomely into the basket. And they kick over the body to the side.

"You Imperial bastards!" Some feminine voice shouts from the ranks of Stormcloaks, and I assume that is his wife or friend. _Maybe she'll go next for that, so I can have more time._

A lot of people cry out for either side and I tune it out till Ralof mutters, "As fearless in death, as he was in life."

_Fearless? That's fearless? No, that's stupidity at its finest._

"Next, the Wood Elf!" _…_I look around ignorant…_She doesn't mean me, right? God DAMN IT! What about freaking Ulfric over there? _The same roar is heard again, and I'm instantly aware it's getting closer. _Unless it can fucking fly, there is no way the gods mean for me to escape. _

"What was that?" again the curious cry is heard and is ignored. "I SAID, next prisoner!" The captain nearly screams, her bitchy-ness is not to be deterred for a single second. "You heard her. To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."

_Or else what?! You'll use a spear to hack my head of slowly?! _

I am pushed to the block and me and my brothers eye's connect, and I smirk and wink at him. I mouth the words, "Don't worry."

I'm a little surprised to see tears well up in his eyes, and him fighting the bonds to help me. I feel once again, that brotherly love that I've long pondered about. Not even the same species and he would risk his life to save me. I smile and turn away, not wanting him to see my tears as I realize how hopeless it is. We're going to die…

I look up at the tower behind the executioner, and I feel something approaching…and I hear the roar again and a giant shadow flies out from behind the mountain.

"What in Oblivion IS THAT?!" the General cries out, and the executioner lifts his axe. _Dude, really?! You're still more concentrated on killing me instead of finding out what he's talking about?! You are the most dedicated fucker I have met!_

A giant fucking …THING with scales, horns, and wings lands on top of the tower and the mighty concussion knocks the headsman to the side, and people draw their swords.

"DRAGON?!" people cry out, and it shouts at me, and I feel power in it, before the force of it rolls me to the side and I hit my head on the ground. I can barely make out words being shouted till it all rushes back and I hear, "DaX! DaX! DaX! Get up!" and someone shaking me.

_Wait…the gods are saving me? With that thing?! I must be pretty damn lucky!_

I stand and find my brother has undone his binds and is hurrying me towards Ralof, who is screaming "Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!"

Me and Axe turn to find Artharis already keeping up with him, despite his hate for the Stormcloaks. I run after, my hands still bound, but with no time to free myself. We run into a nearby tower. "Jarl, Ulfric, what is that thing? Are the legends true?!" Ralof asks the now free Ulfric, and I feel Artharis's hate building next to me.

"Legends don't burn down villagers." Is his reply. Fucking clever bastard.

The roar is heard again nearby, and Ulfric shouts, "WE NEED TO MOVE! NOW!"

We charge up the stairs, and as I'm passing by the top with Axenth, the wall explodes inward knocking me down the stairs into Axenth's arms, and a fire blows into the building, missing me by seconds. "There is no way up!" "See the inn on the other side?! Jump through the roof!"

"What, you mean through the fucking hole?! Fuck you!" I shout at him. "Go! We'll follow when we can!" "That's NOT reassuring!" But Axenth jumps out anyway and I groan and roll my eyes and jump, followed closely by Artharis, and we land in the burning remains of a inn. _How did shit go down so fast?!_

I follow Axenth past the floors and outside, seeing the Imperials with their swords drawn. "Hamming, I need you here now!" The gentle voice reader calls out, now panicing slightly. A little boy charges through the rubble. "Atta boy, your doing great!" he says, and they run off with the boy, the voice, and a guard, running towards a tower as the dragon lands and we make eye contact, Axenth tugging me to follow the guards. Me and the dragon have a face off, until it opens its mouth and takes a breath, then I charge after Artharis and Axenth,

"Still alive, prisoners? Stay with me if you want to stay that way!" the reader says. _You were going to put me to death! …well I still trust you more than the Redguard woman. _

We follow them, me and Artharis still in binds, while Axenth tries to hurry us along. "Gunnar, take care of the boy, I got to find General Tullius and the rest!"

He says, and we run off down streets, nearly being caught aflame by the dragon. We get to a cross section after passing a lot of imperials, and I see Ralof, and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least I wont have to follow the people who were about to kill me.

"Ralof you damn traitor?" _Wait, what? _"What in the Eight are you doing?"

"We are escaping, Hadvour, and your not stopping us this time!"

"Fine I hope that dragon finds you in Sovenguard!"

Both yell at us to follow them, and the choice seems obvious, but I see Artharis stop behind me. "What are you waiting for? Follow the blue guys!"

"I loath the Stormcloaks!" he snaps, and I see reason has left him. "Not all Nords are bad! I'll show you! Come on, Do you really want to follow the people that were about to kill us?!"

The prospect of death clears his mind and he follows me with the Stormcloaks."

"Fine, I'll trust you, but only cause you're an elf, and your right!"

I smirk and we run into the building with Ralof. We burst into the building, slamming the doors shut, and Ralof runs to a dead Stormcloak and kneels. "We'll meet in Sovenguard brother." He says to the body.

"Now is NOT the time for that nonsense, Nord! Undo our bonds!" Artharis says.

Ralof stands and looks at us, and nods. "It looks like we're the only ones that made it. That thing was a dragon, no doubt! Just like the children's stories and the legends. The harbinger of End Times. We better get moving. Here, let me get those bindings" He says and I let him take the chains off, while Axenth uses his claws to pick Artharis's off.

"Here, take gunder's gear. He wont be needing it any longer."

Artharis, though in his potato sack clothes needs the armour, takes up the axe and powers a flame spell. I take the armour and weild sparks, my knowledge about destruction magics limited to the few spells I learned at the farm in Black Marsh.

Axenth readies himself with his Argonian skin, and his claws, as we hear commotion in the halls.

"Damn, no way to open these doors from our side…"

"Smart, DaXlyn, you led us into a dead end." Snips Artharis.

"Shhh! I hear someone coming! Get ready!" I whisper, getting on either side of the gate on the left. We ambush a imperial soldier as I burn the other coming in the door. It's the Redguard woman!

"Vengence is sweet" I say, before zapping her through her heart, killing her. I hurridly strip her armour and find a key, and Artharis takes up the soldiers armour while I give Axe my Stormcloak armour and I don the chick's gear, the breasts on the armour looking silly on my body. Axenth barely makes an attempt to cover his laugh while I pick up a sword and toss it to him, wielding a sword and a spell.

"I found a key, maybe it'll fit the gate on the other side!" I say, running into the other room, shoving the key in and opening the gate.

"That's it! Now, lets get out of here before the dragon brings the entire tower down on our heads!"

We run down the stairs and into a hall, and I alert Artharis to the soldiers on the other end of the hall before the ceiling collapses in between us and the soldiers.

"Gods, that dragon is relentless" Ralof says, looking at the rubble.

"Ralof be ready for a fight, I saw a few imperials on the other side of the rubble."

He nods and we run in, and fight, clashing swords, but while I'm in a sword lock Axe comes and kills my guy, and Artharis kills the other, easily.

We loot the better armour and I grab the man's armour that is identical to my own, feeling a lot better that the slacks aren't restricting my genitals. Now I weild two swords, having felt drained of my magic, and axe has imperial armour. The only one not wearing good armour is Ralof, and he tells us to search the room for any potions and useful items.

"Done? Good. Lets get moving!" He says as we scrounge up some potions of minor healing and others of the sort. We head out the door and down stairs, Ralof taking the lead. "Trolls blood! It's a torture chamber!"

I hear voices from the other side of the room and I pull everyone to the side. "There's a lot more troops in there, and I have a plan." I whisper and after a minute everyone agrees and we get into position, and walk down into the chamber, where Stormcloaks are being lead at sword point by some soldiers.

"Greetings, admiral, what is your report?" I command, walking in with axenth's face covered and Ralof in between me and Artharis.

The soldiers step in front of us and are about to talk when our swords each find their stomachs and we gut them, dropping their bodies, and freeing the Stormcloaks.

Ralof talks to the newcomers while Artharis points at the cages, talking to me and my brother. "Which one of us is the best at lockpicking?" he askes holding up about four lock picks.

Axenth points to me and Artharis gives us each a pick, but gives me two.

"We'll each unlock a cage and whoever opens it first is the best. We keep whatever is inside, got it?" he smirks.

We nod and split up, me in the middle, Artharis on my left and Axenth on my right, and we each draw a dagger and a pick, and on three we start, but in half a second, mine is open, and then Artharis then Axenth. I win and I get the gold, and we grab a book on the table and leave, following after the Stormcloaks.

I grab gold off skeletons as we pass by cages and soon we are at a giant hole in the wall. Ralof stops and turns to all of us. "It's better we stick together, who knows what lays beyond this point"

I smirk and talk to Axenth, "What could be scarier than the things we've seen lurking in the marshes?" we laugh as we descend the into the depths.

We round the corner and run into some more imperials and some Stormcloak shouts, giving away our cover, "Freedom for Sovenguard!"

We run through guards, slaughtering them, and in the bloodshed an arrow glances off my helmet, and I turn to see a bow man, and I fling my dagger, which imbeds itself in his arm, and I charge at him, slashing him open and grabbing his bow, using it to shoot the other two guards.

Artharis also grabs a bow from a guard and we head out, we approach a bridge held up by a lever.

Artharis yanks on the lever and the bridge falls, and we quickly make our way across. The tunnel collapses behind us as we make our way across. "Guess there's no turning back now…" Ralof says, and we keep going down the corridor. We round the bend and rind ourselves in my own personal hell…

Spiderwebs drop from the ceiling to the ground and creatures wrapped in web struggle around and I see them…

Giant, hairy spiders. Twice as big as a man, with eyes as big as my fist. I get behind Artharis and I push him forward. "Go on, friend." He sneers and looks back at me. "Afraid of spiders?"

I glare. "No, its cause it's dark and there's only torches. OF COURSE IT'S THE FUCKING SPIDERS!"

Artharis laughs and the Stormcloaks take out the spiders while the rest of us watch, and just move on, grabbing spider eggs. We reach an area with a lot of water and Ralof stops us, the other Stormcloaks killed by the spiders and the tunnels collapsing. "Stop. There's a bear up ahead. I'd rather we go around, but if you want, you can take it out with this bow. Get a heads up on it."

I nod and give the bow to Axenth, and I take the shot with my own bow, shooting the bear in the eye. But it's such a weak bow that it doesn't drive all the way in, and the bear roars, getting up. It charges at us, and Axenth drops his sword and throws himself onto the bear, biting and clawing it with his natural Argonian weapons, while Artharis keeps shooting it in the side, and Ralof stabs it, and together, they quickly subdue the bear.

We barely have time to celebrate when a roar comes from above and the cave system shakes. We quickly run out into the next tunnels.

"I SEE A LIGHT!" Axenth yells, charging forward out of the cave.

Finally…an end to this insanity.

I wrote this on 12-21-12, but just finished it. Sorry. I would like to know weather to go with the Stormcloaks or the imperials. Artharis was originally intoned as a dark elf, so if you see dark elf anywhere in here, though I tried my best to redo it with wood, please, just mentally replace it with wood elf. PLZ HELP with suggestions! I would love to get more readers to this as I think it would be one of my finer adventure stories.


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